


Kill Someone

by EllerWrites



Category: Original Work
Genre: Chess, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 23:34:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllerWrites/pseuds/EllerWrites
Summary: An assassin is sent to kill a chess grandmaster. It doesn't go as planned.(Chess tournament fluff with a bit of mild flirting.)
Relationships: Chess player/Assassin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Kill Someone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [etothey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etothey/gifts).



_”And remember, whatever you do, stay away from the restrooms. Assume they have surveillance superior to any tech we can provide you with. Good luck”_

This was, Jenas mused, a fascinating place to become part of the crowd. He was trained to operate in almost any situation imaginable, but most often he had to deal with busy streets, bustling offices, and, if his target was rich enough, occasionally luxurious holiday resorts. (Jenas _liked_ luxurious holiday resorts. Right up until the shooting started.) He had successfully infiltrated gyms, canteen kitchens, and, on one memorable occasion, a jungle expedition. _This_ … was new.

_”They’ll know you’re not a player. No, we are not sure how. If anyone asks, use a press card or similar._

Blending in at the Phein Springs tournament proved more difficult than he had anticipated, and he was grateful for the thorough briefing he had received before the job. Otherwise he might have been surprised by the metal detectors at the entrance of the playing hall or overlooked the bulge of a gun under the blouse of the young woman who had poured his coffee and politely wished him a good game. Jenas had thanked her equally politely although he did not intend to stick around until the round began. He had to get this done quickly, before anyone realized he was not here for the chess.

_”Also, assume everyone is just as paranoid as you are. Don’t let the arbiters see you”_

Fortunately, finding The Target was easy. During the preparation for this job, he had memorized The Target’s name, his age, the year he had obtained his Grandmaster title, and even his ELO rating, which had been rapidly rising during the last two years, not that it would help the man when he took his last breath. Now, all Jenas lacked was a plan.

The Target did not look his 37 years, not even when wearing a suit at nine in the morning which, Jenas felt, should make everyone look boring, serious and old. Far from it. He sat at a table near the window, surrounded by children maybe a quarter of his age, showing them something-or-other on a chessboard, everyone gesticulating wildly, speaking loudly and interrupting each other. (These children were actually screaming and occasionally hitting each other. Who knew a few pieces on a board could be so _exciting_?) The Target seemed to be entirely comfortable, at piece with himself and his company. His black hair gleamed in the sun. His boyish laugh made him appear entirely ageless. He looked happy.

Now, how to go about this? Jenas would have preferred to get The Target in a quiet place, vowed to himself he would keep the children out of it if he could help it. (He would indeed have opted for the restrooms, had he not been vehemently warned away from them.) As it was… Strangling was too slow; he would not be able to finish that before the ubiquitous security guards overwhelmed him. Knifing was maybe possible, though messy. Jenas missed his gun.

Jenas was startled when The Target actually made eye contact. He was usually so careful not to stick out, not to be noticed, but there was no mistaking it: The Target was looking right at him. Waved him over, now. Jenas winced inwardly; tried to not let it show. What had given him away?

He saw no other choice but to comply. The kids had noticed him now, as well, and were scuttling over to make room for him. So many witnesses, Jenas could not get rid of them all. (Did not particularly want to, either.) This job was clearly more trouble than it was worth. Schooling his expression into a smile he told himself was false, he walked over, careful not to knock down any pieces from the other tables, and sat down on the other side of the table. (Why was everyone playing chess already? The tournament was supposed to start at ten! He had been apprised players tend to be at the venue early, but this was ridiculous.)

“You’re White”.

Almost too late, Jenas realized The Target was not referring to his race. His confusion must have shown on his face, judging by The Target’s pointed handwave in the direction of the board between them. This, Jenas thought, was the moment he should flee. He could give a flimsy excuse and leave in a hurry – leave the job undone, too, but nothing to be done about that – and get away easily. He had not done anything that would make security stop him… yet. Jenas cursed himself for his lapse in professionality.

“You looked at me as if you wanted to play against me very badly”. The Target’s voice sounded melodious, pleasant, and, Jenas thought, vaguely amused. “It’s in your eyes. Or was I wrong? Were you looking at me for other reasons?”

At this point one of the kids chose to make a rude hand gesture referring to possible other reasons. Jenas, and to his surprise also The Target, started to grin. (Now that was a good excuse! Was it?) The Target inexplicably just reached over and ruffled the kid’s hair before shooing him away, instead of doing the normal thing of at least pretending disapproval. The kids soon lost interest in the new arrival and instead started a game at the next table… A game that involved chess pieces, no rules that Jenas could identify, and a lot of shouting, shoving, and flying pawns.

Jenas was fine with that. The reasonable thing would be to flirt a bit with the man who didn’t seem to be disinclined, and walk away when the tournament began. (Half an hour to go. Jenas could manage talking to an attractive man for half an hour. Playing chess, though? That was another matter.)

Instead, inexplicably, surprising himself in the process, he leaned over the table. “I could not hope to stand a chance against a grandmaster, so, I’ll pass”. More quietly, making sure the children could not listen in, he added, “I think you’ve made some serious enemies”. Jenas himself did not know the identity of his client and had not asked, either. (He never did. His usual targets – the rich and powerful – not only had countless enemies but also usually deserved exactly what they got, no matter who made it happen.) He just had a hunch that The Target – and he should stop calling him that; he knew perfectly well the man’s name was Vikam – maybe deserved better. “Any idea who might want you dead?” Just to make the scene appear more normal, he moved a white pawn to e4, remembering this as a reasonable opening move from his childhood days. To Jenas’ surprise, The Target (no, _Vikam_ ) burst out laughing.

“You may have missed it”, Vikam said quietly after quelling his laughter, “but I’ve recently moved into the Top Twenty. _Of course_ , people want me dead. Most of all my own federation, who would want someone else to have the spot in next year’s world championship qualifications. Wasn’t it them who hired you to”, he hesitated for a moment, making clear he wasn’t fooled, “warn me?” He moved a pawn to c5 without actually looking at the board. Jenas recognized the Sicilian opening.

“I’m sorry”, Jenas said. He knew there was something else he should say or do, but could not imagine what. Fortunately, he was saved by the bell signaling the start of the round. Could this have gone any worse? 

Vikam stood up abruptly, smiled, gently touched Jenas’ shoulder. “It was nice to meet you, but I have to go now… to kill someone”. He grinned, and knocked Jenas’ king over with something Jenas recognized as his own non-metal knife. (When? How? Clearly, Jenas was more out of it than he had previously realized. He could not even manage to be afraid.) “I guess I’ll see you later in my hotel room, then. If you dare”.

Somehow, Jenas had no doubt Vikam would _win_ that round.

**Author's Note:**

> ...couldn't sleep; decided to write a spontaneous treat.


End file.
